


difficulty

by WillellaRose



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Depression, Gen, Genji Shimada (mentioned) - Freeform, Grief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-05
Updated: 2018-02-05
Packaged: 2019-03-13 23:44:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13581459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WillellaRose/pseuds/WillellaRose
Summary: Hanzo mourns Genji's death, thinks about too many things, and goes home.





	difficulty

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shadow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadow/gifts).



     The clatter of a resin bow against hardwood floors rung through the room. The altar had heard the familiar sound annually. Usually he felt like he was being followed. Today, he didn’t care enough to notice. After a decade of every day pulling up the guilt in his stomach, Hanzo had enough. If an assassin was sent for him, he accepted his end.  
     He prayed for the soul of his victim. Every time he saw the lighthearted boy as a child, playful and kind to everyone. He went down the years and saw his own frustrations grow with Genji, even now. Nothing would ever replace the ease and happiness Genji provided through conversation. Grief was a terrible thing. It probably was never supposed to last more than a year, but all ten had been filled with 365 days of self-torment. Everything he did as a result of this was a mistake.  
This was normally a time filled with sorrow, but today he felt nothing but resentment. He did not feel angry towards his brother, but his murderer. The self-loathing washed over him, walking away from the altar and out into the cold streets of Hanamura. His temporary home was fairly far away, and Hanzo was left with only his thoughts. They were horrible company. Critically analyzing every mistake he made since killing his brother, his head spun. He reached for his canteen, and stopped to get medicine from his backpack.  
     One of the worst side-effects of bad decisions were the medical impressions stress and guilt left on you. He suffered crippling migraines after thinking about his past. Repressing it all was simply less painful. He also felt guilty for only regretting one of his victims. He was an assassin, not meant to have any soft spots. Yet here he is, tiny saltwater rivers banking on his salt-and-pepper beard.  
     The apartment he stayed in was secluded and crowded. He had a very small collection of groceries. Sake, rice, fish, and cabbage made up most of the fridge and cabinets. He had a view of the mountain from a tiny window to the left of his bedroom, a small living area with a television, and a kitchen with a stove, aforementioned fridge, and sink. The bathroom was the smallest room in the apartment, being somewhat crowded for him to bathe.  
     He started cooking the rice and began to cry more. Nothing was supposed to be this way. He often found himself wishing to talk to Genji one more time. To say sorry a million times. To somehow make it up to him. Bargaining was always useless, and ended with eating plain rice and sake for dinner while watching the news, turning off all the lights, and leaving his empty dishes on the table.  
     Life wasn’t ever easy after Genji was gone.


End file.
